The Journal of Aetuis Garius
by Aetius of Cyrodiil
Summary: Aetuis is a simple hunter, he isn't a hero destined for great power, he is but a simple man wishing to survive his plight in the land of Skyrim. Although life may be hard Aetius will see it through to the end.
1. Chapter 1 - The Life of a Commoner

**The Journal of Aetuis Garius**

 **Authors Note: Well, before I dive in , i'd just like to say The Elder scrolls series is not mine, all respective right belongs to Bethesda Softworks and Zenimax Media. However Aetuis, Varal and Auguvia belong to me. Without further ado, I present to you, my first fanfiction:**

Chapter 1: Introduction

So, you may not know who I am, so let me tell you. I am Aetius, a hunter by trade. I'm a Imperial hailing from the proud city of Cheydinhal in Cyrodiil. My father is a Redguard, goes by the name of Varal he was a hunter, he prowled the Heartlands in search of animals and hides to bring in coin. While my mother (who is an Imperial) was a smith she goes by the name of Auguvia.

At a young age I was taught by my father on the basics of archery, such as how to string a bow and how to shoot at moving targets. While my mother taught me the ways of smithing and how to repair weapons and armour. While I did think that these skills would prove useless, they aided me in the long road ahead. I also attended the local Schoolhouse in which I was taught how to read and write, as well as to perform basic addition and subtraction.

When I came of age I sometimes accompanied my father on hunting trips. Where my skills in archery grew evermore. While on weekends I worked with my mother at the forges in her shop called 'The Killing Blow'. Although it was hard at first, I forged all manner of items from nails to hinges to locks. Although I didn't pay attention as much as I should have. Working on the counter of the shop taught me the basics of mercantile skills and haggling, I enjoyed this a lot more than smithing. My mother even started to pay me a small amount of Septims for my work at the store, while it was just enough to get by, I eventually saved up and bought a my first bow.

My first bow was a Colovian Longbow, the wood which the bow was from the towering Red Oaks in the Colovian Heartland. It did cost me quite a lot. I pretty much had very few septims left afterwards. That bow saved my life quite a few times. My current bow that I have now is an is a Birch Longbow, which are the very same bows that the Imperial Legionnaires use here in Cyrodiil. I decided to craft my own armour, however that turned out worse than expected, it hardly looked like armour. Think of patchwork clothing, now instead of patches, think of random bits of leather that have been hastily stitched together. Once again I did realise I should have payed more attention to my mother armour smithing lessons instead of staring out the window, or admiring the houses ceiling and brickwork. In the end I just bought a cheap colovian leather jerkin, with some steel greaves and a pair of reinforced travelling boots.

Once I had these items I set out exploring, believe me Cyrodill is a beautiful place filled with wonders, but also danger. The Legionaries try their best to keep the road clear of bandits and highwaymen but inevitably as things often do some survive. I've had to kill to ensure my survival, it doesn't get any easier, however as an old Legionnaire once said 'hesitation on the battlefield can prove deadly'.

However to get the best game you need to stray from the well guarded roads and into the forests. Unfortunately many forests are infested with Bandits, Skeletons and other horrors. I did bag quite a few deer venturing into the Colovian heartland, however I almost died when I decided to be a 'hero' and run into a bandit fort. That wasn't the best of ideas, in fact it's the worst one i've had so far. There archers tore into my armour, and my short sword couldn't get past there shields. In the end I just ran. The Bandits just laughed as I ran. Let me tell you its agonizing running with an arrow embedded in your leg. Once I had put enough distance between the fort and myself, the adrenaline started to wear off I started to notice the arrow embedded in my leg. It wasn't my finest hour, I had to rip the arrow out of my leg because if I had drunk a healing potion with it still stuck in my leg, it would have healed the wound, around the arrow and cause the arrow to become more firmly embedded in my leg. I still have that damn leg scar.

Anyway a few weeks later, I decided it would be a good time to cross the border into Skyrim, now that was an unparalleled mess.

 **So, constructive criticism is welcome, feel free to evaluate and tell me what you liked and disliked, I hope you enjoyed my first chapter of Aetuis Journal.**


	2. Chapter 2 - The Border

CHAPTER 1: THE BORDER

 **Skyrim and the Elder Scrolls series don't belong to me, its a property of Zenimax Media and Bethesda Softworks, but Aetius, Velger, Augvia and Varal belong to me. Ulfric Stormcloak does not. Anyway engough about that, lets get on with the second chapter of Aetius's Journal!**

After my 'heroic fight' with the Bandits I limped my way over to the local healers in Cheydinhal. A few weeks later I decided that Cyrodiil seemed to small. I needed somewhere new, somewhere I hadn't been.

Hammerfell seemed a bit too hot and dangerous, spefically due to the fauna there. High Rock had incredible vistas and game, however the Counts there would not take kindly to me hunting upon their lands. Black Marsh was out of the question due to countless diseases the swamps have, not to mention the lack of game as well as the fact that some of the people there were not exactly Empire friendly; Morrowind got destroyed the Red Mountain, a local volcano, which left it a land of ash and death, to put it mildly I wouldn't go there for a holiday. Although the majority the Dunmer were gifted Solstheim as an act of 'kindness' by the Nords of Skyrim. Although from what I hear half of the island was destroyed by ash and fire from the Red Mountain.

So, that left me with one country, Skyrim. The majority of the people there are pro Empire plus due to the strong military presence of the IV Legion stationed there, this meant I always had a fall back plan in case the entire population somehow turned on me. Which was high tail it back to Cyrodiil and let the Legion sort it out. Or if push came to shove I could always claim asylum as an Imperial citizen, which would get me refuge in Castle Dour, an Imperial stronghold.

Most likely, that wouldn't happen. However it was always good to have a fall back plan.

I did move out of my parents house, although I just moved several streets across the road to a local Inn called 'The Sheeps Head'. Once there I gathered the rest of my meagre earnings from my room in the Inn and told the Tavern keeper Velger, I wouldn't be coming back anytime soon. This earnt me an inquiry into where I was going, I informed him I was to leave for Skyrim. This netted me a free bottle of Alto Wine, as according to Velger it was a 'goodbye gift'.

Once I had my wash and payed my tab, I left the bar; unto the paved streets of Cheydinhal, the high houses there casted a perpetual shadow over some parts of the city. I informed my parents I would be leaving Cyrodiil altogether and setting my sights for Skyrim. This netted me 'goodbye hugs' from both Varal and Augvia. They told me that they would miss me and to write frequently to them, which I said I would.

Once that was done I headed to the marketplace of Cheydinahl and went to the local Snyod mages guild. After the Oblivion Crisis the Mages Guild was looked upon dissfavourbly, due to the Mythic Dawn members (who started the crisis) using magic. This lead to public pressure for the Mages Guild to be shut down, to make a long story short they disbanded, but they split into two factions who were the Snyod and the other being the College of Whisperers. Many looked disfabourlly upon the College of Whisperers due to them making use of Deadra.

The Synod guild in Cheydinhal was always a pain to navigate around, it was always stuffy and its bookcases were constantly packed with spells and scrolls; in this Snyod Guild there were bookcases every step of the way. Which meant that moving around required a great deal of finesse and agility.

Using my savings I was able to acquire an enchanted map. While I have heard of enchanted items such as armour and weaponry, this one was different. According to the Snyod researcher there it would literally show me the world, as if I were a Dragon flying up from Aetherius, it wouldn't tear or break apart if exposed to rain, sleet or snow.

Although I dismissed these claims, that was before he opened the enchanted map. When the Snyod researcher opened it, it was a different experience. It was as if I was viewing Cyrodiil from up above, the land, clouds, and cites were shown, it was a surreal experience. To put it simply, I bought the map.

Instead of buying way on a caravan to Anvil, and once there I would buy passage upon a ship bound for the city of Solitude. I decided to change that plan and find a caravan that was heading for the border of Skyrim, my reasoning being it would be cheaper.

So with the map in my pocket and a few hundred Septims left I looked up at the sky, it was late afternoon. I headed to the commerce sector in Cheydinhal, once I was there I booked passage with a caravan belonging to the East Empire Company, although this left me devoid of any Septims. The caravan was leaving early in the morning.

Unfortantly I had to return the bottle of Alto Wine to Velger. Unfortunately I decided it would be a good idea to start drinking at the tavern when I got back. When the day dawn I realized that was a REALLY bad idea, because it felt like there was an entire legion going to war in my head, to make a long story short, I had a hangover. Fortunately Velgar gave me back my bottle of Alto Wine the next morning. (I'm probably never going to touch wine again)

I left the residental district and was bound for the gates, my main purpose was to locate the Caravan that would be taking me to Skyrim, this was a hard task, the gates to Cheydinhal are constantly packed with Guardsmen, Caravans and members of the local Fighters Guild. I was able to locate the caravan, by shouting over the constant noise of chatting and horse neighs.

Unfortunately, for me none of the people in the Caravan seemed to like listening to me talking constantly, the just kept to themselves and occasionally scanned the horizon.

The caravan journey was uneventful, we reached the border in a few weeks, believe me the Jerral Mountain pass is inhumanly cold. Plus the constant checking and re checking of my Imperial Citizenship Papers by the Census and Excise Office that was stationed at the border. This made everything a lot slower (quite literally).

Three hours later, night had fallen and the bureaucrats at the C & E Office got permission to let the caravan and I through. It's as if the people there can't tell their arse from quill!

I was bloody cold trudging through the damnable cold and the constant stares by Legionnaires were making me feel more paranoid than safe.

Fortunately for us a few miles after the C & E Office there was a Tavern, its name was 'The Sleeping Dragon'. Contrary to many taverns across Cyrodiil (whose floors don't reek of piss) this one was clearly a Nordic Tavern, instead of using a dammed chamber pot. we were told if nature calls we would have to "leave and squat".

Nordic beds, for a lack of a better word are basic. And the rooms in the Tavern were essentially small, just about enough space to fit a single, small cupboard and one bed.

That's not even the worst part, it was hardly a bed! It was just a bunch of furs thrown over each other with a straw mattress!. Although i've slept in worse places, but the taverns bed ranked among the top ten. Fortunately I had my finely Cyrodillian made Bedroll, so I slept pretty soundly. As expected I had to pay the room fee the next day.

Unfortunately no one in my damned caravan had roused me from my less than pleasant slumber. They left me behind! Damn them all to Oblivion!. I made a rash decision, I decided I would waste no time I would get to Falkreath (which was the town just beyond the border)

When I left the tavern and started trekking to Skyrim, I put a good few miles between me and the Tavern. I hate it when I think 'it can't get more worse than this' because that's what I was thinking, a few miles later the winds pick up, it was a damned snowstorm! Have you ever tried running in twenty seven inches of snow? Its hard work, and when your shielding your face with your arms (and swearing) it becomes even more harder.

Fortunately at the time fate smiled upon me, as I spied a group of (what seemed to be) mercenaries. Although I found it odd that they were all wearing the same colour cuirass, although i've seen odder things. I thought these mercenaries had uniform colours to distinguish themselves from one another. There leader introduced himself as 'Ulfric Stormcloak' if i'd have known the trouble I was about to get into, I would have ran screaming back to Cyrodiil.

The mercenaries were heading towards Falkreath, and as luck would have it I was heading that way, so I joined with them to make it to Falkreath alive.

The mercenaries didn't stick to any major roads and seemed almost paranoid to a point. The mercenaries and I finally left the Jerral Mountains. The snow finally thinned out and the weather got slowly warmer. Finally I had made it to Skyrim! The air smelt clean and the woodlands looked sublime!

As we were walking through the forests of Falkreath we came to a cross roads, although the sign was nestled bellow a rocky outcrop. Once we were there Ulfric took a look at the sign, then not a few seconds later we were ambushed! I was expecting bandits, not my own countrymen! It was a bloodbath, the mercenaries were getting cut down, either by arrows or through the stabbing thrusts of the Legionnaires. This presented me an ample opportunity to hide under the bodies of fallen mercenaries, which I did.

At that moment I started screaming, I didn't know why the Legion was attacking the mercenaries but I didn't want to stick around either. It seemed the battle was going in the Legions favour and Ulfric and the remaining mercenaries threw down their weapons.

I started shouting "I'm an Imperial citizen held hostage! You have to help me!" I was dragged out of the mass of bodies I hid under. My bow and quiver was taken from me. I was dragged in front of the Imperial Captain who led the ambush.

I showed her my Citizenship Papers. She just bloody laughed and called me "A Stormcloak sympathiser" she then proceeded to rip up my Citizenship Papers!

She then told the men under her command that I was a plain clothes Stormcloak solider, this got me knocked out by the Legionnaires.

When I next woke up I was on a cart surrounded by Imperial Legionnaires.

 **I hope you enjoyed reading that as I enjoyed writing it, per usual constructive criticism is welcome!**


	3. Chapter 3: What In Oblivion Is That!

**CHAPTER 3:** **What In Oblivion Is That!**

 **Welcome back to Aetius story, I know i've taken an 'extended break' but, rest assured Aetius is coming back! Now, as a disclaimer I don't own the Elder Scrolls series, Bethesda holds the rights to those. Aetius and his family belongs to me. Anyway, with Skyrim Specail Edition came out today, I bought a copy. I decided to blend the mod called: Live Another Life with it, as Aetius save files on my old Xbox 360 wasn't transferable to my Xbox One (plus I also got that mod, if you don't want to sit through the same twelve minute tutorial, go right ahead and download it, its pretty good.) Without further ado, I present to you, Chapter 3!**

So, much has happened between the ambush and now. So, anyway as I was saying, I was loaded into a Cart with these other prisoners. But an Imperial Officer managed to convince the Captain that I shouldn't go to Helgen. Hadvar, I think his name was. Well, thanks to him i'm not going to Helgen. I'm instead going to an Imperial Prison. But not the one in Cyrodiil. Theres one in Skyrim.

Anyway, I should explain. After the ambush was over, everyone was marched to a clearing. There were loads, and I mean LOADS of carriages there. There was this other fellow though, dressed in rags, he was another Imperial, black hair and brown eyes, he almost looked like me. He was put on another carriage. Along with other Stormcloak Lieutenants and Ulfric himself. I guess he got caught by the border patrols. Or, he got caught up in the ambush. Perhaps he fought, perhaps he didn't. It doesn't matter.

The Imperial Guardsmen were happy enough to let me keep my journal though. Anyway, I was provided a candle and a some ink and a quill by the prison guards. I told them of my parents address. If i'm going to die here, at least they'll know how I died. Or, I suppose the events leading up to it. Anyway, I got chucked into a cell. Its better than most. I guess being an Imperial is paying of afterall!

* * *

I don't know how long i've been cooped up in here. The guards have been coming in less and less. My muscles are wasting away. Each day is harder than the next. I've been given so little food. Even writing is a hard task to do.

* * *

Today there was a thunderstorm. A massive one. I can hear water FILLING the prison. Then there was a riot. No one came for me. Not the guards, not the prisoners. I guess that's what you get for getting a furnished cell...

* * *

Okay, so it might be hallucinations. But, there's a massive golden statue of Mara in my cell. How in the Eight did it get here!? As I walked up to it, to see if it was real. I touched it. Solid Gold. An actual, solid gold statue. Then it spoke to me. Actually spoke. By the Divines, I'm going mad! Get out of my head, Sheogorath! I like being sane! I don't want to be a gibbering lunatic!.

It told me to 'calm down' and to 'not be afraid'. How! I'm stuck in a slowly sinking prison! Everyone either dead, drowned or gone!. Oh, by the Eight. I think I said it out loud.

'It' or should I say Mara, yes, the actual God, Mara! The Goddess of Love and Compassion!. Mara told me that the path that I am treading is not by my own design, She's giving me a chance. A single chance to change my life. I could be insane. But what other choice do I have?

So I told Mara, what I would be doing instead of being stuck inside this tiny cell. I would be hunting. She said something along the lines of the woods being bountiful in game this time of year. Then I felt suddenly tired. So I dragged myself to bed.

* * *

 **Journal of Aetius Garius** , if lost, please return this journal to him for a reward of Septims.

 **17th of Last Seed**

What in Oblivion happened! As soon as I woke I found myself in my campsite. I think, I hope, that it was actually Mara who helped me. When I woke upon my bedroll, I was in my own tent. My steel arrows and Hunting Bow were right beside me. What was odd though, is that my journal looks new. Before it was aging and cracked. Now its new. In mint condition. Instead of a light brown colour, it's a solid dark brown. Theres no cracks in it whatsoever. The pages in it aren't yellow anymore, there white.

So, either the Gods are watching over me (I don't need that pressure!) or the Daedra are interfering with the web of fate (I won't be a damned pawn to your schemes! Daedra scum!). Anyway, I guess this is a new life for me. Or at least, a fresh start. This time, i'm going to make the most of it. Anyway, its early morning, the sun isn't up. I better go hunting.

Bagged a few Deer, and a few foxes and wolves. The Count (or should I say: Jarl) can't eat every deer can he? Anyway, I need to keep track of my stock:

* * *

 **Inventory Count on the 17th of Last Seed**

x2 Deer Pelts (Average Condition - Make sure to aim for the chest - DON'T USE POISONS unless you don't care about the meat)

x2 Elk Pelts (Poor condition - need to make sure not to go for the deer's legs, also I need to work on my axe skills. It didn't die quick enough)

x3 Wolf Pelts (Average condition - Aim for the head, make sure to go on the defensive - watch for flanking by other members of the pack. If a lone wolf is present, kick it on its back, slash its throat quickly. If possible, engage at a distance.

x2 Fox Pelts (Good condition - Thank the Gods that there damn small and so quick, makes them bleed out faster - don't run after it, waste of energy - I need to remember to use my Hunting Bow.)

x1 Rabbit Haunch (Excellent Condition - Bastards are damn quick, if the first arrow doesn't hit it, don't follow)

x4 Venison (Good quality - Need to salt it. Rotten meat attracts Skeevers)

154 Septims - Need to earn more coin - mercenary work possible? Join the Legion? - (Varal would be happy that I found steady work).

* * *

 **17th of Last Seed**

Went to Helgen. No one knows who I am (i'm better for it) I saw the General talking with those Thalmor fellows. He saw me. My heart skipped a few beats. His attention turned back to those Thalmor he was arguing with. It was loud. He has an impressive voice, perhaps he should've been a street performer. Skyrim needs more of those.

Anyway, I sold my kills at a local shop. Belforns General Assorted Goods. Only general store in town. Belforn as it turns out, is a Breton. Nice person. He was a former Adventurer. Scouring caves and ruins in search of coin and riches. He gave up to raise a family. Anyway, in total I got 56 Gold in total for my pelts. I'm worse at haggling then I thought.

When I was exiting the town, I saw them. Stormcloak Soliders in carriages, including that Imperial I saw last time. I made a quick exit in the form of a brisk walk. I don't think any of them saw me. I took a look at him, the Imperial that is. His eyes burned with pure hatred. His face, a mask of anger.

I made it to my camp in short time, i'm glad Mara made it close. Anyway, I need to get some sleep.

* * *

 **17th of Last Seed - Midnight**

By the Gods. I heard it and I saw it. A giant Dragon. An actual Dragon. I thought they were dead! The sounds of battle were constant. I saw it from my camp. Battlemages flung bolts of fire into the sky, Legionaires fired arrow after arrow into the sky, all it did was bounce off the Dragons scales. There was screaming. A lot of it. The town was ablaze. By the Gods, the Dragons have returned! The dragon was a big as a tavern, wicked interlocking scales covered its body, its razor sharp maw eviscerating Legionnaire after Legionnaire; it has red, glowing eyes. By the Gods, why? Why would they do this to me? I thought Mara wanted to help me! Not make me a witness to an **atrocity**!.

I saw it fly off, towards Whiterun Hold. If its heading there, they need to mobilise everything.

Tomorrow, i'll look for survivors of the attack.

* * *

 **18th of Last Seed - Early Morning.**

I now realise that my plan was bad. When I reached the town, the only thing I saw was charred corpses. I couldn't identify them. Their bodies were burnt beyond recognition. By the Gods, the smell. The smell of acrid flesh hung in the air. I managed to find a Journal though, battered and scarred.

It was by that Imperial fellow. It was burnt. None of the entries were dated though. The journal described the attack in far more detail that i'd liked.

It told me that Hadvar (An Imperial Officer) and Ralof (possible Stormcloak Lieutenant - capture or kill?) managed to rally the townspeople. They got most of them to the Keep. Most of them. They all perished when the remaining Legionnaires and Stormcloak Lieutenants burst into the keep. Apparently it was over infighting. Hadvar and Ralof were the only survivors. The townspeople got caught in the crossfire.

The journal mentioned a cave beneath the Keep. As luck would have it, my camp is near a cave opening. I'll go and check that out.

So, I found them. Hadvar and Ralof. Both were bleeding out. I think they were fighting. Anyway, Hadvar mistook me for the other Imperial, apparently he had left to warn Riverwood. He thought I was him. The cave was unstable. It was either, side with a Stormcloak (who was possibly a war criminal) or go with a Legionnaire (who had inadvertently saved my life.).

I need to think on it.

* * *

 **18th of Last Seed - Early Afternoon**

It was an easy descion. I went back to my camp and searched in my pack for Healing Potions. Then, I double timed it back to the cave. I gave Hadvar the potion. He drank it eagerly. Then a cave in started. It crushed that rebel traitor. Hadvar seemed more sympathetic though. He seemed to mistake me constantly for that other fellow. He mentioned something about joining the Legion. He said that General Tullius would be working on strategies to counter the Dragons.

By the Gods, i'm not sure any more.

Anyway, Hadvar led me to his uncles house, in the idyllic village of Riverwood (which was a stone's throw from Helgen). Hadvars uncles name is Alvor, and hes the local Blacksmith. Alvor gave me a few supplies on the road. He told me that I needed to warn the Jarl about the threat, more guards the better. Riverwood barely has a wall, and what passes for town milita here is laughable to say the least. Tomorrow, I warn the Jarl of Whiterun.

* * *

 **I hope you enjoyed, and check back for further chapters. Plus don't forget to review, every bit of constructive criticism will help me improve as a writer.**


	4. Chapter 4: Auxiliary of the Legion

**CHAPTER 4: AUXILIARY OF THE FOURTH LEGION**

So, this is the Fourth chapter of Aetius story. Anyway, I don't own the Elder Scrolls series, all rights go to Bethesda Softworks. Feel free to give me some constructive criticism. Anyway, onward with the fourth chapter!

* * *

 **18th of Last Seed - Alvors Home **

I didn't set off immediately, I needed to repay Alvors kindness. So, I helped him at the forge. Or, more accurately, he helped me. He got me to smith a simple Iron Dagger, he made me sharpen it. I actually feel proud of it. Something I made. Well, my smithing got a slightly better. Then he made me make a Hide Helmet. It went worse than expected. I made the helmet straps to small. It took me three hours to rip them out and put new straps and fittings in. In the end, when I gave it back to him, he told me to keep it. I asked him if it was due to the slow nature of my work. Turns out, when he started Smithing, his forgemaster let him keep the first two items he forged. He told me to remember him when i'm making Skyforge Steel. Ha! If that day ever comes, i'll be celebrating. I then set off for Whiterun.

Getting there was easy enough. I ran into a wolf, I tried to kick it. It was a bad idea. Latched onto my damn leg. Bastard could bite. But, my newly forged Iron Dagger proved more than capable of stabbing into soft flesh. Skinning it on a bad leg was a bad idea. I continued on my way. Well, limping on my way, that's more accurate.

I found an Imperial Patrol escorting a Stormcloak prisoner. Good, I hope that bastard gets what is coming to him. A few steps down the road, the pain became worse, so I decided to drink a healing potion. Within a few seconds, the wound closed, and I could feel the pain ebbing away. Well, while running towards Whiterun, I saw a few mercenaries fighting a Giant. When the mercenaries where done stabbing it to death, one of them came up to me and mocked me. Aela, I think her name was. Her use of Nordic was rudimentary, at best. She had the grace of a Horker and the swiftness of one, a Horse would have been a better conversationalist then her.

I reached the gates of Whiterun with little trouble. Guards were everywhere. What if they saw the dragon to? Well, after Sergeant Mannering (the gate guard) told me the city was closed. But, using my oratory skills (mainly listing of the fact that I saw a Dragon, and saw it flying this way) got him to open the gate.

So, as I ran along the cobbled streets, I and up the steps to the Jarls palace, it was made out of wood. That isn't a good sign. If a Dragon turns up, it's going up like dry tinder. The Jarl was having counsel with his advisers. Granted, I was extremely paranoid of that Dragon turning up again. So, I sprinted straight to him. Most of the Guards had their hands on their swords. I then proceed to scream at him to get his attention. I then told him about Helgen, and its demise; about how Riverwood needed a lot more Gaurdsman. Four peasants with Woodcutters Axes are going to be a minor distractions for a Dragon. He motioned for his Adviser to get me some better armour.

As it turns out, it netted me some pretty nice armour. Cyrodillian Legionnaire issue armour in fact. Its got chain mail on it, so if I wind up trading blows, hopefully my guts won't spill out. Anyway, I made it to the local tavern, the Bannered Mare. Its pretty late, so I need to get some sleep.

 **19th of Last Seed**

So, I made the decision that i'm going to Solitude. The IV Legion is stationed there. If I join up I could get back to Cyrodiil. Plus, with my skills i'm going to be assigned to foresting or garrison duty. Which means either I need to brush up on my axe skills (for clearing branches), or I need to simply sit back and look like i'm doing something (for garrison duty).

If all else fails, I can become a cook. At least I get a roof over my head, some armour, several days worth of rations and a sword.

I made it out the gates of Whiterun after picking up a few arrows at Belethors General Goods. I decided to take a carriage to Solitude. It was easier. (plus if I got ambushed, I could always use the carriage driver as a human shield)

 **20th of Last Seed**

The carrige drive is taking longer than I thought. The driver hired mercenaries, Companions, they called themselves. I think I might join up with them. More septims for me. As long as its hunting wildlife and not tussling with Bandits or Imperial and Stormcloak Deserters

 **21st of Last Seed**

Today I watched a man die. Well, executed in fact. Rogvir was his name. Was. The damned fetcher betrayed the Empire. He let Ulfric waltz right out of the gate, after he killed the High King.

They should've drawn it out some more. Perhaps then they could've sold pies or something. The headsmans axe is too quick for traitors. Just chuck him to the Thalmor, that'd be good to watch. Well, he's dead and i'm not. I guess that's all there is to it.

Anyway I went to Castle Dour. I was actually directed to talk to the General. Not a recruitment officer, or a Legate. But the General. Doesn't he have a war to win and sieges to plan? Well, I talked to him. I told him about Helgen. He called me resourceful. He directed me to speak to the Legate. There were two of them in the room. He then clarified he meant Legate Rikkie.

 **21st of Last Seed - Afternoon**

Gods damn it all! She asked me to clear out a FORT! An actual fort! Occupied by Bandits! I asked her if I was going alone. She said yes. One hunter, against probably forty bandits, who could have martial training. Its a suicide mission. No Legionnaires are coming with me. None. She just told me that "She had a good feeling about me". Of course, because thats supposed to reassure me when i'm charging into a fort when i'm outnumbered twelve to one! Well, I better write a few messages in case I kick the bucket.

* * *

To anyone reading this, if you have found a bloodied corpse in a snow drift somewhere, thats me, Aetius. I was sent here to die by a idiot Legate becuase 'they had a good feeling about me'. If you find said Legate (female, brown hair, blue eyes, talks with an air of authority and has a Nordic accent), inform them of my death and then punch them in the face.

* * *

If Bandits are reading this, I hope you all burn in Oblivion! Congratulations on taking down a Hunter who you outnumber! The Gods will be proud of you cutting down a defenceless civilian! May Shor accept you into Sovengarde. Songs will ring in your honour about how you cut down a Hunter when you outnumbered him! Just in case you guys did get me, I coated the journal in Poison. Law abiding citizens are immune to it! The symptoms involve: Sore feet, annoyance, aggravation and a sense of guilt (have fun dying to it! Ha Ha! I'll be in Aetherius, watching you scramble for a cure!). To partially cure the poison (Your still going to die, but doing this will delay the poison by three days), sneak into Solitude, get into castle dour and then punch Legate Rikke in the face.

* * *

If Legionnaires found me, Legate Rikkie killed me. Her senses were wrong. (CURE FOR THE POISON: EHT NOSIOP SAW A EIL) Make sure to pass this journal unto a Courier, tell them to send it to Cheydinhal, the fee will be paid by my Garius family. Tell them 'Aetius sent this'. Also, punch Legate Rikkie for me.

* * *

To Pa and Ma. I died trying to join the Legion. It was all Legate Rikkies fault. She sent me on a suicide mission to capture a fort in the snowy parts of Skyrim. Alone. With no back up. Against countless hordes of Bandits. Make sure to lodge a complaint with Census and Excise Office. Get them to write my death certificate. Then, find Legate Rikkie (The person who sent me to the fort occupied by countless bandits) and punch her in the face.

With love, your son,

Aetius Garius

* * *

 **22nd of Last Seed**

I went to the inn. If I die, i'm doing it with as much Brandy in me as possible. I also booked a room for two days (twenty gold gone). Still, the guy in charge of the Inn keeps it really clean. And its in a Cyrodillian Style, so he wins points in my book!

 **22nd of Last seed - Early** **Morning**

Bought more arrows. Steel this time, Iron wont punch all the way through, so I bought more Steel arrows.

 **22nd of Last Seed - Afternoon**

I found a Bandit Camp (warmup practice, I guess). I killed them all. I'm getting better at it. Got an arrow in my arm though. I had to rip it out. Thats three healing Potions I have left now. Tomorrow, I move on the Bandits at the Fort that Rikkie wants me to secure.

 **23rd of last seed - Very Early Morning**

What in the Planes of Oblivion! I was expecting more! On the outer walls there were only seven! Thank the Gods there was a snowstorm. They never saw the arrows coming at them. Now, I move into the prison. Perhaps there could be Civilians there.

No one was there. It was empty. Three bandits were there though, sneaky bastards caught me by surprise. I now have a bunch of axe wounds to deal with. The pain is making it hard to write. Looks like its time to down another healing potion. Its time to enter the forts command centre

I think the Chief may be deaf. I killed two of his comrades in plain view of him. He didn't even look back at them.

So, he was a tough fight. Keyword 'was'. Took long enough. Next time I should use poison. Paralysis seems good. Good news though, I didn't die. I almost did though. I had a few close calls with the archer up in the tower. He was a good shot. Almost like he had been combat trained. When I got to the top of the tower to engage him in mêlée, he parried and blocked like a Legionnaire. He was a good fighter. I asked his name as he bled out. I guess he was hallucinating from the blood loss, because he thought I was Arkay, the God of life and death. Tiberius, he said his name was. Turns out he was in the Legion. He fought at the Battle of the Red Ring, to retake the Imperial City from the Thalmors clutches. His Legion led the rearguard action.

He saw some terrifying things. Elven magicks setting his sqaudmates on fire. The cotton uniforms going up like smoke. He says he can still hear their screams in his sleep. He fought desperately that day. He did things he wasn't proud of. Bleeding out and desperate for death, he followed the Thalmor ambushers back to their camp. He slaughtered them all. He then took anything he could get his hands on. Notes, books and documents.

His contribution allowed the Imperial Legions to take back the Imperial City and the surrounding villages. He was given a medal, but he didn't keep it. He said it reminded him of his sqaudmates. He ran away from his past, he tried to escape it. After nearly starving and freezing to death by going through the Jerral Mountains he took to Banditry. Anyone who handed over there Septims got to live. Unless they were an Elf. He butchered those.

But, in his dreams, he was back in Cyrodiil. Back on the battlegrounds. The elves he slaughtered were always looking at him, stoic faces unblinking. His Legion surrounded him. Dead bodies rising from their slumber. Then the battle would play out again and again and again. This time, he saw every detail, every drop of blood spilled, every scream and plea for mercy. Then it would stop. The Legionnaires would fall, one by one. The Elves would transform into rotting travellers, their guts spilled out, screaming. Maggots marring there fine Elven features, turning them into a grotesque nightmare.

All they would do is point at Tiberius and advance at him. In this nightmare nowhere was safe. Whatever he did, they would always find him. Whether he hid under carts or corpses of his kinsmen. The travellers maggot infested arms would drag him into their embrace. Then when they did the dream ended. This played out every night of his life after he took to Banditry.

Anyway, I need to get back to Solitude.

 **24th of Last Seed - Afternoon**

I told Legate Rikkie of my success (I really wanted to punch her in the face, who sends a Hunter to clear a **FORT**!). Well, the General administered the oath. Which was odd. I thought he had other things to do. Anyway, I took the oath. At least I have a Legion with me. I hope I don't end up like Tiberius. I just have to remember its them or me. I've been placed under the command of Legate Rikkie (Urge to punch her is becoming stronger daily). I've been ordered to proceed to Korvunjund (an ancient Nordic tomb) will all due haste.

I've bought an Imperial Bow, its redwood this time. Apparently it was made in Valenwood, when it was pro-Empire. Before the Thalmor came along. Now it's a puppet state. All of the pro empire supporters are gone. Literally vanished. Anyway, the General told me to get myself outfitted. I'm a Legionnaire, and I need to look the part.

So, since this is a scouting mission (since i'm going to a dammed tomb in the arse end of nowhere!) I received some Imperial Light armour. Its good quality leather. Should keep me light on my feet to dodge a few blows. But, it won't hold up agaisnt a Battleaxe strike. My plan is to dodge, locate weakpoint in there armour (such a gaps or exposed skin) then I can drive my hunting knife in (Don't forget to twist the blade!) And then go for a killing blow. Or I could just go for bodyshots with barbed arrows. Poisons work best on mortals. As long as there's a lot of physical activity (like running and dodging) the poison will work faster, makes them easier to pick off that way.

I asked Rikkie about the mission. We're going to retrieve an ancient Nordic crown that may or may not be there. Apparently it could legitimize Ulfrics claim if he got his hands on it. Well, the bastards not going to! Not while the the Fourth Imperial Legion is here! **For the Empire, for the Legion!**


End file.
